


Nice

by Iost



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bad Dirty Talk, Because I Can't Write, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hugging, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Smut, forgetting tags, like always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:09:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iost/pseuds/Iost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were friends with benefits, until they weren't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice

**Author's Note:**

> No WiFi  
> On phone

They weren't anything but friends. They had sex, but that was it. Friends with benefits, you could say.

Usually after they had sex, York would instantly gather his things and leave, or he'd kick Wash out after he got dressed.

Wash hated just having sex. He wanted more, but he wouldn't say anything about that. If York only wanted sex, that's what he'd give him.

Rough, dirty, hardcore sex.

It was never soft, they never kissed slowly, and York never teased him too much. Yeah, there were bite marks and hickeys. Hell, sometimes York would get long scratch marks down his back.

Let's just say, Wash was not innocent.

To sum it all up, they were friends with benefits. But that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Now was different though. Now, York was teasing him. A lot.

“Mm, so pretty when you squirm, Wishy Washy.” The brunet says, tweaking a nipple and licking at his jawline.  
“Don't, ah, call me ‘Wishy Washy.’ Makes me feel like, ooh, I'm five.” Washington mutters, running his fingers through his friends hair. He has really soft hair.

“Fine, spoil sport. What should I call you them, hmm?” He asks, nipping at the blond's neck softly.

“F-fuck you, York.” York laughs, it's strained, like he's trying to stop himself from just taking Wash right then and there. Washington liked that thought.

“I think that's the other way around, baby, eh?” Wash rolls his eyes, but a small smile played at his features. It wasn't everyday York called him names, or even talked nicely towards him during sex.

Yeah, York did call him names. Like slut, or pussyfest (whatever the hell that even is. Seriously, what is that?) But never darling or sweetheart.

It was nice.

“Hey. I asked you a question.” The brunet says, pushing his hips down on the younger man's, making him moan.  
“I… I don't know.” Wash admits, York hums, but doesn't push the subject anymore. Instead, he takes the occupation of rolling his hips against the rookie, making him arch, oh so prettily, against the older man.

Now that, that was nice.

It suddenly started to fall back into place then, York started to get rougher, and Wash let it happen. How it usually went.

“Y’moan so good for me, babe.” York growls, stripping his friend and himself of their pants. Wash wiggles a little, when he feels York's breath against his hip.

When they start rolling their hips together, York barely lets him move, making him lay there and just take whatever York would give him. He's actually quite surprised they aren't having sex already.

“C’mon, York. P-please.” Wash begs, York smiles before asking. “Please what, Wash? Gotta be specific, or I can't do anything.”

“York, please, I need y- oh York!” He pleads, York’s smile becomes dangerously bigger. He leans closer to the rookie.

“Need what? Do you need my fingers? My tongue? My big fat juicy cock, deep inside your little hole?” The gray and yellow freelancer whines high in his throat, York chuckles.

“Although, I do think I could give you all of those things. Open you up with my tongue and fingers. Then, pound into you with my cock until you scream.” The gold freelancer pants.

“You ta-talk too much.” Wash snorts. York rolls his eyes, but stops talking, instead he starts playing with Wash’s nipples.

The blond whines again and wiggles, making York slam his palm against his pelvis. That's when Wash screams and blacks out slightly, fucking prick. Fucking York knows that's a weak spot for him. Fucker.

When he ‘wakes up’, York is smiling at him fondly. There's white stuff, Wash will never say cum, ever, everywhere. Mostly on their bodies though, he blushes.  
“Sorry.” He mumbles, turning away from the mess, to look at Maine's empty bed. He wonders where the large freelancer is, probably training.

York gets up then, and moves to go somewhere. Wash isn't sure where, he has a feeling he fucked whatever it is they had up though. That still doesn't stop the questions from forming in his head.

Why is he leaving? Is something wrong? Does York not want him anymore? Oh god, he really hopes not. York's one of his closest friends.

The rookie pushes the negative thoughts away, when he sees the brunet pad into the room with a wet rag.  
York cleans them both in silence, Washington still isn't looking at him. When he's done, he throws the rag onto the pile of armor on the floor. They still don't talk.

Wash looks back soon enough, his mind is screaming at him not to. But he feels York's eyes on him, and he can't help it. He's a curious person. So yeah, he looks at him.  
Only to see York, stupid puppy faced York, giving him the most calculated look. It was so much like Delta, that Washington wanted to puke. AIs made him sick now. He looks away quickly.

“Look at me.” York orders, only for Wash to squeeze his eyes shut. He then feels a hand wrap around his chin.  
“Open your eyes. And look at me.” The brunet demands, the blond bites the inside of his cheek, but his eyes flutter open anyway.

“There ya go, bud.” York encourages softly. “You okay?” Washington nods slightly, he nibbles on his lip.  
Surprisingly, instead of leaving, York gathers a still blushing Wash into his arms, and they stay like that.  
The brunet's head is tucked between the freckled man's neck and shoulder, and Wash has a feeling his friend is in the need of comfort. Not him. He stares at the wall, holding his friend closer to him.

“I don't want you to leave.” York whispers, Washington furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but doesn't reply.  
“I can't have you leave. You mean so much to me, Wash. I… I love you. Shit, I really fuckin’ love you.” York admits, there are hot tears falling down his face onto the younger man's chest.

Wash's breath hitches harshly in shock, his arms fall to his sides. York holds him closer, tears coming full force now.

“P-please don't leave me. You're the best thing that's ever happened in my life, d-don't leave.” He begs, it was so uncharacteristic of York, that Wash almost wanted to start crying to.

“Shh, calm down. York… York look at me.” When the older man doesn't budge, Wash sighs and grabs his face into his hands, pulling his face up. “It's okay. I love you too.”

The first thing that flashes in York's beautiful hazel eyes is disbelief, then confusion, then happiness. Wash thinks that's a good look on him. Happiness.

When York smiles, it's one filled with relief. He basically attacks Wash, with kisses and sweet nothings.

And the only thing Washington could think of was, this was nice.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, yes, hello. Thoughts?


End file.
